Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
JINX
Where the fuck is she? And why the fuck won’t she answer her phone?
I step out of the municipal building and into the sunshine, a sweat already forming, although not from the heat of the day.
I look right, up the street, but it makes no sense for her to have gone that way.
There’s barely a handful of houses before the street turns back toward the industrial area that borders the river.
And if I didn’t see her walking home on the way through town, then maybe she’s not here at all?
Perhaps she got in someone’s car? Asked a friend to pick her up.
Although she never mentioned reconnecting with anyone since she got back. And as far as I know, she doesn’t have her own car. The explanation doesn’t seem plausible.
I tug out my phone and take a seat on the council steps to call Vanessa.
“Hey,” she answers. “What’s up?”
“Has Kyra been in the cafe in the last fifteen minutes or so?”
“No. I haven’t seen her since she left after lunch. Why?”
I catch the sound of the till in the background, Ness dealing with a customer as well as the call.
“No worry. I’ll let you get back to work. Just call me if she does.”
“Sure thing.”
I disconnect and sigh, phone clutched between my hands and elbows to my knees.
I want to believe this is total overkill.
That I’ll be embarrassed when she turns up fine and gives me sass for over-reacting.
Hell, I’d take her old man tearing strips off me for interfering with his girl over this twisted up anxiety.
I hate not knowing how things end. Not having the answer.
Movement to the left catches my eye, and I lift my head, expecting to see one of my brothers on his way to rendezvous with me. But it’s not. Hell, it ain’t even a King.
The patch that stares me square in the face as the guy steps out of the alley between the stores and turns toward the main street is one with a snarling hound of hell.
One that’s not fucking welcome here. I glance down to navigate to Chaos’s number, hit Call, and slowly lift the phone to my ear.
The asshole across the street hasn’t seen me, and I don’t plan on giving myself away just yet.
“‘Sup?”
“I found our four stragglers,” I say quietly, eyes on the blond guy who also makes a call.
“Where?” He breathes heavier as though he walks quickly.
“Alley across the street from the council. I’ve got eyes on one.”
“Wait until I get there. I’ve just dropped Selena off at home. We’re on our way back.”
“I can’t.”
Chaos exhales heavily. “Why the fuck not? You don’t know what they’re packing. You got something to prove by having your tombstone made?”
“I’ve got something I won’t forgive myself for if my gut instinct is right. I reckon they’ve got Kyra down there with them.”
He covers the microphone, the words muffled as he hollers for Loki and Crow. “What’s your plan?”
Chaos covers the mouthpiece again, barking instructions at the other two while I talk. “Go make a lot of noise and hope they think I’m braver than I feel right now.”
“They’ll smell blood,” he warns. “You sure you don’t want to wait? What if Kyra gets hurt in the crossfire? Marty will have our ass.”
Never mind Marty. I’ll have my own ass. “Either she gets hurt by accident, or they do it on purpose. I know which one I’d rather deal with.”
“We’ll meet you there in ten.” His tone changes as the call switches over to his headset. “Maybe sooner.”
“Is Fang still nearby?”
“He’s circling back to town with Circus. Said the rest of them passed straight through; no sign on the outskirts. I’ll tell him where you are. Wait for him before you go in if you can.”
I rise to my feet as the Devil across the street turns my way. His gaze lifts, phone still to his ear, and recognition steels his features. Game on. “I think it might be a bit late for that.”
Call disconnected, I shove the phone in my pocket as I jog down the steps. “The fuck are you doing in Temperance?” I holler as I hit the street.
He steps toward me, which I don’t like one bit. He ain’t fronting up to me—he tries to draw me away from whatever goes on behind him. “Don’t need an invite to travel America’s fine roads, do I?”
“You do when you want to travel on mine.”
He stares down at the ground beneath my feet. “Don’t see your name on it.”
“Quit fucking around.” I hop up onto the pavement with him. “What are you doing here?”
“None of your business.”
“Do we need to go over this again?” I ask, eyes narrowed on the fuck. “You’re in my neighborhood, so yeah, it is my business. Just like it would be your business if I showed up on your back doorstep.”
He turns to read the street sign behind him. “Your name is Cottonwood, is it? If this is your street and all.”
I take another step forward. As predicted, he doesn’t move.
“You don’t scare me.” The fuck smirks.
“Good thing I’m not trying to.” I take another step to close the gap.
He stares me down, chin tilting to hold my eye when I take another step forward so that our chests touch. “I’d almost think you’ve got a hard on for me with the way you behave.”
I take another step, my leg moving past his as I push him back with my body.
He retreats, but stiffens up. I know doing what I am will inflame the situation and have this fucker at my throat in no time, but that’s the necessary fallout for my main objective: see what the fuck is happening down the alley.
See if they have Kyra down there.
We continue our dance, the shorter guy pushing back harder the more that I bulldoze into him. But his best efforts aren’t enough. My advantage in size and muscle means I can push him out of the way, taking a quick side-step into the alley while he’s distracted with our showdown.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Fucker grabs a handful of my vest as I walk away, his filthy fucking hand no doubt crushing my patch. A sign of disrespect I can’t ignore.
“Where I fucking want.” I spin in a tight circle, using his fist hold in my cut to push against his arm and jerk him off balance while my fist sails for his face.
The explosion of pain through my knuckles is immediate, as is his growl when blood gushes out of his nostrils. Mad eyes find mine, and the fucker charges, but I’m ready, one foot back to brace myself when the Devil launches himself into me.
His hand slides around my throat, pushing my head up and making me take a step back into a dumpster. The asshole lands low shots into my ribs as we tussle. I shove a thumb in his left eye and push, successfully forcing him off me so I can regroup. Each breath rasps past my bruised airway.
“The fuck’s going on out there?”
The call comes from behind me, and I know it’s bad to have my back to what other danger there might be, but my immediate concern is the crazed fucker who licks the blood off his lips as he shakes his shoulders loose, revving up for round two.
I fucking left the clubhouse today without packing. I was so hellbent on finding Kyra that I strode out the door without a weapon. Any other day, and I’d have something. A knife. My gun. But that’s what they say about the day you meet your maker, ain’t it—you can’t choose when it happens.
“Come on, then,” I taunt, lifting my chin to beckon the fuck. “What are you waiting for?”
He charges again, swinging his arm up at the last moment to clothesline me. But I’m not worried about retaliation—had no intention of attacking. All my focus was on what he’d do next so that I could improvise.
And improvise, I do.
I duck, his elbow grazing my scalp as it sails overhead, and spin on my heel to take hold of his extended arm. Left hand pushing forward, I wrench my right back and bend the fucker’s elbow the wrong way. He ducks and spins to relieve the pressure, twisting out of my hold with a yelp.
Might not have broken it as I intended, but I’ve sure slowed him down.
And turned us around.
All three of the remaining stragglers stand in the alley, two looking ready to jump in while the third casually sucks on a cigarette with a vague look of amusement. I scan the area behind them, but fail to find any sign of Kyra.
Maybe my gut was wrong?
A slick of panic washes over my skin, gone as quickly as it arrived. I might have fucked up, here. But hell, we’ve all got to go somehow.
“Having fun yet?” The smoker steps between the other two—a young, lanky guy, and a shorter, stocky man. “You got balls coming in here on your own. Each King for himself, is it?”
“What the fuck do you take us for?” The taunt comes from the mouth of the alley. Fang.
Fists clenched at my side, I stare down the apparent ringleader of this little crew while I keep tabs on the movements of the crazy son-of-a-bitch behind me.
None of these fucks are the president or vice, which tells me I’ve come across a dirty little crew of errand boys.
Why did they stay behind? What are they up to that puts them right here, in this alley, today?
“Get the fuck outta my way.” Fang steps to the side, facing off with the crazy blond who seems to figure there’s no harm in letting our sergeant at arms through if it puts him in the eye of the storm as well.
Fang steps up beside me, directing his question my way while he watches the others. “What’s going on, hoss?”
“Having a friendly conversation with our visitors here,” I quip. “They were about to tell me why they decided to make a pitstop.” I roll my lips together and realize somewhere along the way I’ve either split them or bitten one in the ruckus. Copper taints the tip of my tongue.
“What’chya gonna do about it?” Smokey taunts.
I glance down at his name badge. Pits. It rings a bell, but I can’t think why at the moment.
“Politely ask you to leave,” Fang answers.
Pits addresses me. “You always let your pups answer for you?”
“We run our club a little differently from yours.” More of a democracy. Less of a dictatorship. “You enjoy your little power trip today?” I ask. “Haven’t seen an officer’s badge anywhere yet.”
Only the crisp, fresh colors of a newly minted member on the lanky guy. Sneak. I’d dare say this is his first trip with these boys.
“Still got more balls than you two combined,” Pits quips.
“Fuck off back out the way you came in before I convince you why you should,” the stocky asshole—Medicine Man—says, gun held loose at his hip.
Not much of a fighter then if he feels the need to flash his piece to get the point across.
“How about no?” Fang sweeps his cut aside, hands to his hips to show his twin pistols.
Fucking hate when it comes to a shootout, but you gotta do what you gotta do to get the message through.
“Think you’re quicker than me?” Medicine Man asks.
I chuckle, slowly stepping aside. “Please. By all means, find out.” I gesture to Fang, who hasn’t moved.
He loves to joke around, play the fool, and charm the ladies with his playful nature. But get the man in a situation such as this, and you soon figure out why he looks so wild west with his mustache and carefully styled hair.
There’s no satisfaction, though. The situation disarms when a van screeches to a stop at the end of the alley.
I turn to see what the goddamn commotion is all about while Fang keeps his eye trained on the three in front of us.
The crazed blond asshole turns for his newly arrived brothers when one of them jumps out of the passenger side, yet the man doesn’t get far, a sharp crack sounding a split-second before he doubles and clutches at his knee.
The driver—halfway around the front of the van—stalls as he looks toward the main street.
Here comes the rest of the help.
“The fuck you think you’re doing showing your ugly faces around here?” Chaos hollers as he steps into the alley.
Crow knocks the injured and wailing man to his back, setting a boot to his throat to pin him in place while pointing his weapon at the second guy stalled by the front of the van.
We’re one-on-one, evenly matched, until Circus wanders onto the scene to inspect Crow’s prize, eyeballing each one of the Devil’s Breed in turn as he measures the potential threats in the area. Perfect.
Pits recoils, jaw hard. “Do it,” he taunts. “Shoot us and see what happens. You can bury our bodies where nobody will find them, but our absence will still mean war.”
“You think you mean that much to Smoke?”
Pits falters at his president’s name. “He trusted us to do this job.”
“Or he felt you were expendable,” Fang says.
Sneak looks ready to live up to his name, hoping to melt away into the shadows quietly. Although I wouldn’t say it’s cowardice. I’d pin him as the fucker who slips out of altercations like this to raise the alarm.
“Sit the fuck down.” I point at the kid.
He glances at Pits, who shrugs. I wait for Sneak to get settled on a crate and then position myself behind him, hand resting on his shoulder so I know if he fucking moves. I run my eye over the alley again, looking for any clues I might have missed on where Kyra went.
“Still waiting for an answer on why you’re here,” Chaos states as he strides through the ragtag assembly of men to front up to Pits.
He has at least a foot on the guy.
Pits swallows, eyes his men, and looks back to Chaos. “How about we just leave?”
“Too late for that.” Chaos grins, tilting his head a little. “You’ve made me curious now, and you know what that means.”
Pits lifts his eyebrows and shakes his head a little. “I get little love notes in the mail?”
“I fucking haunt you day and night until I find out everything I need to know about you. And then I put you to rest.”
He’s not lying. Crazy fucker got his woman by being her ghost day and night.
“Why are you here?” Chaos tucks his fingers beneath Pits’s cut and straightens it on his shoulders.
“Club business.” Pits snarls. “Devil’s Breed. Not the Kings of Anarchy.”
“You made it my business when you decided Temperance was the place to conduct it.”
“I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I shake my head. “We ain’t got all day for you to talk.”
“No,” Chaos agrees. “We don’t.” He lifts his right hand, sets a gun to the guy’s temple, and pulls the trigger. “Maybe one of the others will be more agreeable.”
Well, fuck. Guess that’s that then.
Looks like it’s war.